#halsey - Hello Poetry

A: I am lucky to have friends who at least tolerate my ******** B: That's nice. I just hold my peace.

0

Aug 23, 2020

Aug 23, 2020 at 8:52 PM UTC

justin-lai

Correspondence between parallel selves

A: I am lucky to have friends who at least tolerate my ******** B: That's nice. I just hold my peace.

7

So violently violet. I’m a bruised discolored soul. The grass looked so green when I was blue, but not every light means go!

0

Jun 28, 2019

Jun 28, 2019 at 4:01 PM UTC

ainnoot

Colors

So violently violet. I’m a bruised discolored soul. The grass looked so green when I was blue, but not every light means go!

5

I thought of you today... **** It’s been at least a year... Thanks to Halsey... But I can’t complain.. Music is beautiful that way.. In the sense where a song can be so beautifully written, with lyrics that depict all the things you experienced, and especially all that you wanted to say but couldn’t. **** (I hold back a laugh...) This is kind of painful... I shake you off. My heart only associates you with pain. I won’t let myself go back there. But I can’t deny these lyrics..... Because they were our story for the longest time... I am speechless because I never expected a song to pull that hard on the heart strings of my past.

0

Oct 10, 2018

Oct 10, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC

Behind_Hazel_Eyes

Without me

I thought of you today... **** It’s been at least a year... Thanks to Halsey... But I can’t complain.. Music is beautiful that way.. In the sense where a song can be so beautifully written, with lyrics that depict all the things you experienced, and especially all that you wanted to say but couldn’t. **** (I hold back a laugh...) This is kind of painful... I shake you off. My heart only associates you with pain. I won’t let myself go back there. But I can’t deny these lyrics..... Because they were our story for the longest time... I am speechless because I never expected a song to pull that hard on the heart strings of my past.

16

where are you? im so sorry, my love nala i cannot sleep i cannot dream tonight i need you by my side the warmth of the bed gone creeping up and eating my insides i miss it i miss you dont waste your time on me but i need you now youre already the voice inside my head i need you by my side by my heart can you hear it beat? it beats for you, nala. i miss you.

0

Apr 20, 2017

Apr 20, 2017 at 8:11 AM UTC

erica-maria

hey guys so....

where are you? im so sorry, my love nala i cannot sleep i cannot dream tonight i need you by my side the warmth of the bed gone creeping up and eating my insides i miss it i miss you dont waste your time on me but i need you now youre already the voice inside my head i need you by my side by my heart can you hear it beat? it beats for you, nala. i miss you.

25

lets cause a little trouble you make me feel so weak and I bet you kiss your knuckles right before they touch my cheek but I've got my mind made up this time 'cause there's a menace in my bed can you see his silhouette can you see his silhouette can you see his silhouette and I've got my mind made up this time go on and light a cigarette set a fire in my head set a fire in my head tonight

0

Mar 21, 2017

Mar 21, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC

myfuckingdomain

Trouble - Halsey

lets cause a little trouble you make me feel so weak and I bet you kiss your knuckles right before they touch my cheek but I've got my mind made up this time 'cause there's a menace in my bed can you see his silhouette can you see his silhouette can you see his silhouette and I've got my mind made up this time go on and light a cigarette set a fire in my head set a fire in my head tonight

16

Quite suddenly They become aware Of the fragility Of the jugular vein No bone no cartilage Not much flesh either To protect and shield it How we humans just w a n d e r about With no armour Simply not realising how easy it'd be For someone to just S L I C E And down we would go Spraying blood over all in vicinity Life blood is warm and dark red. In other words- Beautiful in the morning light Where it shines like prismatic rubies Warm, and not at all demonic. Don't you think so, my love? The colour suits you...

0

Dec 24, 2015

Dec 24, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC

yasha-harkness

Control

Quite suddenly They become aware Of the fragility Of the jugular vein No bone no cartilage Not much flesh either To protect and shield it How we humans just w a n d e r about With no armour Simply not realising how easy it'd be For someone to just S L I C E And down we would go Spraying blood over all in vicinity Life blood is warm and dark red. In other words- Beautiful in the morning light Where it shines like prismatic rubies Warm, and not at all demonic. Don't you think so, my love? The colour suits you...

22

i'm searching for something that i can't reach she sleeps irregularly. she cries and breathes all at the same time but does not make a sound. her face falls apart every morning when she realizes she is still alive. the anger coursing through the blood vessels in her body is not caused by anything, it comes rapidly and mockingly. she counts to ten and holds the air inside her lungs and hopes to any being listening that her nose stops working so that the air inside her can expand and then eventually diminsh so that she can tear herself apart all over again. she eats unhealthy. stuffing salty fries and refrigerated microwaved chicken down her throat and forcing the urge to throw it all out down to her skeleton so that the food remains in her body, making bumps in her stomach and sticking out of her ribs like unwanted monsters. she likes being ugly. she likes that no one ever notices her and when they do they don't say a word she likes that her own body betrays her and punishes her eyes when she wakes up in the morning and realizes she is still alive. she is a phantom. she is a ghost. she is a whisper. knowing her will not be an adventure it will be a maze filled with poisoned leaves and razor sharp rocks. her smothering brown eyes will captivate you and undo every single knot in your body and make you feel like gravity does not exist. but she will not be pretty. she will never be beautiful. touching her will be like trying to collect shards of glass off of the floor from a bottle of wine that you accidentally dropped. she will not love you. she will not love herself. she will only convince you that she is happy being a mess, a disaster and you will have no choice but to believe her because your love is short lived and only exists when she feels worthless and lonely enough to want your company. you know this. she knows this. neither of you will say it. the truth is an ancient phonebook neither of you have ever heard of. she is not a hurricane, there is no eye in her (h.l.)

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Dec 16, 2015

Dec 16, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC

thestoryofagirl

"do you call yourself a ******* hurricane like me?"

i'm searching for something that i can't reach she sleeps irregularly. she cries and breathes all at the same time but does not make a sound. her face falls apart every morning when she realizes she is still alive. the anger coursing through the blood vessels in her body is not caused by anything, it comes rapidly and mockingly. she counts to ten and holds the air inside her lungs and hopes to any being listening that her nose stops working so that the air inside her can expand and then eventually diminsh so that she can tear herself apart all over again. she eats unhealthy. stuffing salty fries and refrigerated microwaved chicken down her throat and forcing the urge to throw it all out down to her skeleton so that the food remains in her body, making bumps in her stomach and sticking out of her ribs like unwanted monsters. she likes being ugly. she likes that no one ever notices her and when they do they don't say a word she likes that her own body betrays her and punishes her eyes when she wakes up in the morning and realizes she is still alive. she is a phantom. she is a ghost. she is a whisper. knowing her will not be an adventure it will be a maze filled with poisoned leaves and razor sharp rocks. her smothering brown eyes will captivate you and undo every single knot in your body and make you feel like gravity does not exist. but she will not be pretty. she will never be beautiful. touching her will be like trying to collect shards of glass off of the floor from a bottle of wine that you accidentally dropped. she will not love you. she will not love herself. she will only convince you that she is happy being a mess, a disaster and you will have no choice but to believe her because your love is short lived and only exists when she feels worthless and lonely enough to want your company. you know this. she knows this. neither of you will say it. the truth is an ancient phonebook neither of you have ever heard of. she is not a hurricane, there is no eye in her (h.l.)

31

i light matches on non flammable things and start fires i cannot extinguish, i start all consuming love and then tear it apart viciously and tiredly and try to put back the pieces of my heart in this sacred chest at the bottom of wherever my skeleton ends because that is where it belongs, alone and protected you were a cigarette i denied myself the pleasure of smoking you were an old record player that i would dance to by myself at 2 am just because and you were strawberry hill wine in the middle of the park that tasted agonizingly sweet on my tongue and scorched my throat into believing this was happiness i still whisper your name whenever i drive by your house in prayer that i will never see you again, you are still a ghost in the corner of my mind and i have a feeling you will always be (h.l.)

0

Dec 12, 2015

Dec 12, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC

thestoryofagirl

i'm searching for something that i can't reach

i light matches on non flammable things and start fires i cannot extinguish, i start all consuming love and then tear it apart viciously and tiredly and try to put back the pieces of my heart in this sacred chest at the bottom of wherever my skeleton ends because that is where it belongs, alone and protected you were a cigarette i denied myself the pleasure of smoking you were an old record player that i would dance to by myself at 2 am just because and you were strawberry hill wine in the middle of the park that tasted agonizingly sweet on my tongue and scorched my throat into believing this was happiness i still whisper your name whenever i drive by your house in prayer that i will never see you again, you are still a ghost in the corner of my mind and i have a feeling you will always be (h.l.)

14

he is not heaven. he is not a deep breath of fresh air after being trapped inside for so long he is suffocation. when his saturated fingers touch me I am filled with a never ending fire that keeps me awake until two a.m. and makes me question everything I've ever believed. he likes to swear up and down on the metal cross around his neck and pretend he is God when he looks at me. his kisses are never filled with love they are filled with narcotics and taste like a bittersweet kind of hatred. he smokes quietly and slowly inhaling every toxic fume and making clouds big enough to convince you that they are skies. everything about him screams shades of cool he is blue he is black his smile is gold his eyes are grey and he is the color spectrum at its darkest. he speaks quietly and laughs loudly and cries silently when he thinks nobody can hear him. I wake up every morning to the sound of tiny bullets of water scorching his back but he likes the burn so I do not say a thing. he loves the way I sing and teases me endlessly and whispers ****** things when our friends are around because he is an exhibitionist. I do not know what this is. I do not know who he is. but at the same time I do not know who I am either, we are cataclysmic together and wreak havoc wherever we go but there is something so beautiful about what a disaster we are together that i do not want to say goodbye. he is the lover I never have to worry about loving back and that if nothing else matters (h.l.) 11.25.15

0

Nov 28, 2015

Nov 28, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC

thestoryofagirl

"you're dripping like a saturated sunrise, you're spilling like an overflowing sink"

he is not heaven. he is not a deep breath of fresh air after being trapped inside for so long he is suffocation. when his saturated fingers touch me I am filled with a never ending fire that keeps me awake until two a.m. and makes me question everything I've ever believed. he likes to swear up and down on the metal cross around his neck and pretend he is God when he looks at me. his kisses are never filled with love they are filled with narcotics and taste like a bittersweet kind of hatred. he smokes quietly and slowly inhaling every toxic fume and making clouds big enough to convince you that they are skies. everything about him screams shades of cool he is blue he is black his smile is gold his eyes are grey and he is the color spectrum at its darkest. he speaks quietly and laughs loudly and cries silently when he thinks nobody can hear him. I wake up every morning to the sound of tiny bullets of water scorching his back but he likes the burn so I do not say a thing. he loves the way I sing and teases me endlessly and whispers ****** things when our friends are around because he is an exhibitionist. I do not know what this is. I do not know who he is. but at the same time I do not know who I am either, we are cataclysmic together and wreak havoc wherever we go but there is something so beautiful about what a disaster we are together that i do not want to say goodbye. he is the lover I never have to worry about loving back and that if nothing else matters (h.l.) 11.25.15

27

I woke up to screaming no- I woke up screaming. Your pallid, rotting face leering above my lips Icy steel between my bones, hot wet rivers down my cheeks A wash of pastel colors and furious drumbeats Laughter, echoing and your memory taunting me: ******* right* you should be scared of me

0

Aug 24, 2015

Aug 24, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC

w-winchester

control

I woke up to screaming no- I woke up screaming. Your pallid, rotting face leering above my lips Icy steel between my bones, hot wet rivers down my cheeks A wash of pastel colors and furious drumbeats Laughter, echoing and your memory taunting me: ******* right* you should be scared of me

12